


Every Time We Drift

by OhMyFreddy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Automotive Repairs, Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past established Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:59:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyFreddy/pseuds/OhMyFreddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam assured Constance Welch that he hadn’t been unfaithful. “You will be,” she promised. It’s her fault, really, that it turned out to be true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Time We Drift

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the pilot. Title taken from Barcelona’s “Come Back When You Can”, and the story itself is partly inspired by the song.
> 
> I always love and appreciate feedback!

 

“Damn it. Headlight’s out again. I thought I had it,” said Dean from behind the steering wheel. “You mind if I pull over one more time? I’m gonna have to replace the connecter, but I had it kinda wiggled into place earlier-“

“Yeah, dude, that’s fine. Do you have a shirt I could change into while we’re at it?” Sam asked.

Dean gave him a questioning look, and Sam continued.

“This one smells like charred hair or something. It’s right under my nose, and-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean said, his voice pitched a little too high. He cleared his throat and eased the Impala into a gravel lot in front of a long, open-sided shed filled with mildewing hay bales. “I’ll find you something.”

Dean shut off the engine and reached under the dash to release the hood. With twin squeaks of the doors, they unfolded themselves from the car and met again at the back bumper. Dean unlocked the trunk and rifled through his duffle. He drew free a dark grey t-shirt, and Sam huffed a laugh when Dean smiled and triumphantly offered it to him. It was nearly identical to the one Constance had seared holes through.

Dean located the screwdriver he’d used earlier in his rusted toolbox, then closed the trunk and left Sam to shuck free of his jacket. He replaced the keys in the ignition, then raised the hood and propped a flashlight so that he could make out the screws. Once he’d freed them, he slipped them into his pocket for safekeeping, and drew the headlight forward. Sure enough, one of the connecters was flopping loose.

With some wedging and twisting, he got it back into place well enough for the bulb to suddenly illuminate in his palm. “That should hold it ‘til I can get a replacement. Or ‘til we hit another freakin’ pothole. Which, oh,” he said sarcastically, aiming the beam of light into the road beside them, “Is about ten feet ahead of us. Awesome.”

Dean looked down the side of the car to Sam, who had his ruined t-shirt rucked up under his arms and a pained expression on his face.

“Little help?” Sam requested quietly when he saw Dean looking.

Dean slipped the headlight far enough into place to hold it, and went to his brother, nonplussed. “What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed. “Apparently, driving a car through the front of a house kind of fucks up your shoulders.”

Dean’s eyes widened, and he immediately put both his hands gently onto Sam’s shoulders.

“No, it’s fine, I’m okay,” Sam muttered. “Just really stiff. Can you just- haul it off me? Cut it off, if you want. I’m pretty sure it’s toast, anyway.”

Dean had a knife in his front pocket, had slid his fingers over it when he’d placed the screws inside. He left it. He took his hands from Sam’s shoulders and guided them under his arms, pressing his palms to the warm skin of Sam’s back. Sam trembled, even though Dean’s hands were warm from his fiddling near the engine. Dean glided his hands upward until his fingers found the hem of the shirt. He bunched it further up to meet Sam’s collar, then held the fabric in place with his right hand, bringing his left around to Sam’s front. He reached behind Sam’s neck and gripped the gathered fabric.

Sam bowed his head, and Dean drew the shirt forward, his wrist skating over the soft hair covering Sam’s skull. Sam lifted his head and met Dean’s gaze as Dean pulled the shirt downward, slithering it down Sam’s biceps, and elbows, forearms, and then finally free off his hands.

Dean kept the shirt held in a death grip as he drug his eyes over his brother’s naked chest and throat.

For seconds, Sam stood stock still under the scrutiny. Then he inhaled, expanding his chest lewdly, and reached out to take the shirt from Dean. The movement snapped Dean from his trance, but when he lifted the shirt to meet Sam’s reach, Sam gripped onto his elbow instead.

Dean dropped the shirt into the dust, and pushed his fingers once again into Sam’s back. Sam wrenched him forward, hard, into his chest, and pressed his mouth around the curve of Dean’s bottom lip. Dean walked him back the few inches until Sam’s ass was pressed against the rear passenger door of the Impala. Sam shifted his grip on Dean- slid his hands into Dean’s back pockets, grazing Dean’s wallet with his knuckles. Sam squeezed him close, grinding him into his hips. Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth.

Sam pulled out of the kiss and latched his mouth onto Dean’s neck, craning his head to get at the skin below his ear. Dean moved a hand into Sam’s hair to hold him in place, and grit out, “Mmm, Sam. You feel different.” He moved his hand from Sam’s back and stroked down one of his bulging pecs to underscore. “God, but you smell the same.”

Dean released Sam’s head and twisted his own to bury his nose at the bolt of Sam’s jaw, inhaling deeply and then snaking his tongue out for a taste of Sam’s adam’s apple.  Sam shivered and clutched Dean’s backside tighter, enticing his brother’s hardening length to collide with the outline of his own. They groaned, but Sam spoke through it, “Not an inch of you has changed.” He abandoned one of Dean’s pockets to palm at the fly of Dean’s jeans. “Not one inch.”

Dean bucked into Sam’s hand, and angled Sam’s head to where he could kiss him again. With Sam’s hot tongue in his mouth and his bare torso under his hands, Dean’s head was starting to spin with lust. He gasped for breath and fell to his knees, heedless of the ancient gravel. Sam stayed reclined against the car, petting and scratching through Dean’s hair and over his face, naked chest heaving and his open mouth gulping in air.

Dean wrenched free Sam’s belt and flung it neatly through the open window into the front seat. In two seconds, he had Sam’s button and zipper open, and was reaching inside his boxers. Dean gripped Sam’s cock, sparing it only a glace of nostalgic desire, before wrapping his wet lips around the head and sliding them down. He watched Sam’s face contort into aggrieved ecstasy, watched him gasp and jerk as Dean worked his tongue along the underside of the shaft. Dean brought up a hand to cradle and to pull at Sam’s balls, kneading the soft flesh in tandem with the wet suction of his mouth.

Dean adjusted to rub lovingly up and down Sam’s thighs, alternately holding him steady and coaxing him to thrust into his mouth. Sam had wide eyes fixed on him, baring his teeth and hissing in appreciation whenever Dean paid particular attention to the swollen head of his cock. “Fuck, Dean,” Sam whined, pressing into the liquid swirl of his brother’s pink mouth. Dean stared back, and eagerly increased his speed.

Sam’s grip suddenly tightened in Dean’s hair, trying to pull him away. “ _Dean_ ,” he panted, “’m close.”

Dean pulled all the way off and quickly caught his breath, watching as Sam brought his hand down to grasp his deserted cock. “Then don’t stop me,” Dean said, and batted away Sam’s hand. He replaced it with his own fist, and Sam moaned, thrusting into Dean’s slick grip. Dean waited for Sam to begin shaking, and then guided his dick back into his mouth, humming in pleasure, the vibrations and pressure pushing Sam off the edge.

Sam shouted Dean’s name and pulsed down his throat, shuddering and slipping against the door when Dean moved his hands to hold him tight and prevent him from pulling free until his orgasm ran its course. Sam continued to tremble after Dean released him and began sliding his tongue in gentle swipes over Sam’s softening length, carefully collecting any drops he’d failed to swallow. Sam allowed the attention for a moment, but was soon pulling Dean back to his feet, and crushing their mouths together again.

“Fuck, Dean,” he said again, “missed your mouth,” he licked across Dean’s tongue and lower lip, “so fuckin’ much.” Dean pressed even closer to his brother, grinding his erection into Sam’s hip. Sam reached for the swell impatiently, and continued, “Drives me crazy when I can taste my come in it.”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean whispered, and pulled away far enough for Sam to maneuver Dean’s belt open, and rip free his button and fly. Dean bit down on Sam’s bottom lip and moaned around it when Sam’s big hand slid a long stroke up his aching cock. Dean let go of Sam’s mouth and tucked his face once again into Sam’s neck, rocking in time with the pulls of Sam’s hand. Dean mouthed kisses up Sam’s throat, growling, “Missed you, too.”

Sam spun them, kicking up dust until their positions were swapped. Dean leaned against the back door, metal still warm from Sam’s fevered skin. Sam had kneeled and swallowed down Dean’s dick before Dean even caught his footing. Sam bobbed his head at a punishing pace that had Dean heaving for air.

“Shit, Sam, _that‘s so good_ ,” he said, running his fingers over Sam’s bare, golden shoulders. Sam worked him ardently for another minute, until Dean’s cock was shining with saliva and he was trembling over Sam’s tongue. Then Sam rose to his feet and loomed over his brother. Sam fisted Dean’s cock once more, smoothing his spit over the length, and used his finger tips to collect the leaking precome and smear it over the head, enhancing the delicious glide.

“Dean,” Sam said, knocking his forehead into Dean’s hairline. Dean looked up into Sam’s eyes, pupils blown wide and shining with something like reverence. Sam didn’t slow his lascivious strokes on Dean’s cock. “Dean,” he repeated, “fuck me.”

Dean flung his head back and groaned at the words. He choked out, “You want that, you gotta slow down.”

Sam didn’t relax his pace at all. He raked his eyes from Dean exposed throat, down to the leaking cock he pulled back and forth through his fist. He used his free hand to yank upwards on Dean’s shirt, revealing his torso, stretched taut against the arch of Dean’s back. Sam pressed their sweating, naked skin together, and latched his lips onto the tender underside of Dean’s chin. Dean gasped when Sam’s reappearing hard-on slipped against his own; he moaned when Sam squeezed him even tighter to accommodate a new grip around both their cocks. Dean was shuddering warningly.

“No, I can’t,” Sam answered, and Dean was coming, sputtering white over Sam’s hand and splashing onto their stomachs. Sam watched, panting, slowly working Dean through it, and gave himself a few rapid strokes at the very end. He spilled into his fist, collapsing against Dean as pleasure rendered him boneless.

Dean was nuzzling at Sam’s neck again, breathing in his scent, and stroking his hands up and down Sam’s bare back. Goosebumps pebbled under his palms, and Dean pulled him closer to press his warm forearms against Sam’s skin, protecting him from the approaching chill in the night air.

Sam returned the embrace, slowly rocking his head up and down, using the tip of his nose to trace at the shell of Dean’s ear. Their breathing slowed back to normal, but Sam took an extra steadying breath. He said low into Dean’s ear, “I said some shit I didn’t mean that summer, that one hunt, and-“

Dean was already shaking his head against Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t, Sammy. You don’t need to,” came muffled from his mouth. Dean adjusted his position and bit indulgently into Sam’s collarbone. “That was two years ago, and you’re here now, and god, I’ve already forgotten every word.”

Sam tilted Dean’s chin up and kissed him again, slow and gentle and apologetic. A breeze blew down the empty road, and they shivered and broke apart. Sam bent and scooped up his tattered shirt from the ground. He twisted it until he found a clean swath in the material, and used it to wipe down his hands and their stomachs. He tucked himself, and then Dean, back into their jeans, then smoothed Dean’s shirt back into place. Then it was Dean’s turn. He took the clean t-shirt he’d found for Sam from where Sam had laid it atop the car with his outerwear, and guided the arm holes over his little brother’s outstretched hands, up to meet his sore shoulders. Sam ducked his head again, and Dean pulled the whole thing down, shielding Sam from the breeze. Dean directed Sam so that he had his back to him, and Dean dressed him carefully in both hoodie and jacket, ensuring that Sam never raised his arms above his head.

Sam turned back to face him, and they each alighted their hands on the other’s hips, touched their noses together and breathed each other’s air. The silence was contented, and Sam gave Dean a small smile of agreement when Dean asked, “Crank her up and turn the heat on while I finish that headlight?”

Dean dug the screws from his pocket and secured them back in place, taking a moment more to adjust the alignment screws, just to get the beam close to level. He heard the rustle of a plastic bag as Sam found a way to confine his truly destroyed t-shirt until they found a place to dispose of it. Dean dropped the hood back into latch and joined Sam in the cab. Sam looked relaxed and ready to ride, belt threaded through the loops of his jeans, and body angled toward Dean. They stared for a moment, then leaned forward together for a final, lingering kiss.

Dean pulled the Impala back onto the deserted road, revving the engine and avoiding the pothole he’d spotted earlier. Less than a mile further, the car clambered over an unavoidable, crumbling stretch of blacktop, and the headlight winked out again.

“Fuck!” Dean shouted good-naturedly, and Sam cackled.

“Laugh it up, fuzz ball,” Dean retorted. He reached for their dad’s journal and laid it against Sam’s thigh. “Get out that map, would you?”

 

 

 


End file.
